Forever and Always
by Liz Beth Rae
Summary: He'd promised he'd always be there. Clearly that meant nothing. A glimpse into Hermione's head as she and Ron struggle to understand their relationship in the midst of hunting for horcruxes.
1. Part One

**Part One**

Grimmauld Place was speaking. The house ached and moaned as its arthritic floorboards creaked, wheezing from its dusty, asthmatic rooms. Air hissed through the cracked windows; mice squeaked behind the walls, in the distant, rusty veins. The shrieking echoes of Mrs. Black's cruel scream were humming spitefully in Hermione's ears like static, teasing her, mocking her. She felt so small, curled tightly within her sleeping bag as the house whispered around her. The stale, dusty air hung heavy her lungs; the cool, musty smell of an old house, a dark basement was inescapable. As another draft of air scattered dirt on the floor, Hermione was struck by the painful images of Dumbledore's sunken, ghastly face just before it blasted into dust.

A shiver passed through her as she clutched the cushion beneath her, ignoring its mottled surface and lumpy filling. She could see the forms of the other two beside her. Harry was turned away, facing the wall, breathing softly, sleeping deeply. Ron was not looking at her either, stomach down on the hard floor, with nothing but the sleeping bag to provide comfort. A sense of shame washed over her as she sat there looking at their still forms; she was ashamed of her cowardice, lying awake afraid of a haunted house, as the other two slept deeply. Yet the shame could not prevent her from jumping at every little sound, from thinking terrifying thoughts, from worrying over their fate.

With a soft groan, Ron rolled over onto his side, facing her. His eyes were flickering as he let out a light snore. His hand lay slack, hovering just beside her makeshift mattress. Hermione glanced at him apprehensively, as if his impassive face would give some indication of his incognizant thoughts. With slight hesitation, she removed her hand from its cocoon and gently touched the tips of his fingers with her own. When he did not stir, she lowered her hand slowly until her palm gently rested in his. She jumped when his grip reciprocated.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered. "I'm sorry…"

"It's alright," he said back, pressing his lips together pensively, looking at their joined hands.

"I was afraid," Hermione offered in response, feeling foolish.

Ron nodded and swallowed. "It's been a long night."

"I don't know how you and Harry can just go to _sleep_ like that; I keep _thinking_." She noted fondly that he was tenderly caressing her hand as she spoke. The edge slowly disappeared from her voice with each word she spoke. There was a long pause between them.

"Are you afraid, Ron?" she finally asked. A blush crept up her cheeks in the dark.

Their eyes found each other in the moonlight that crept between the heavy velvet curtains. He did not respond at first, and just when she opened her mouth to take back the question, he let out a reply.

"Yeah. I am."

She tightened her grip on his hand. "For your family?"

Ron looked away, fidgeting with his sleeping bag before he returned his gaze to Hermione. He gave her a dead stare and a solemn nod. She returned the nod in understanding.

"I miss my parents. I wish I knew if they were okay," she whispered, frustrated with herself as tears emerged. She wiped them away with her free hand, but more flowed as other recollections of the day reemerged. "I was so afraid today. I was so afraid something had happened to you when we were trying to get out of the Burrow. I was terrified when we couldn't find you."

She sniffed heavily and Ron began to stroke her hand again.

"I'm terrified of losing you," Hermione squeaked. "Of losing you, of losing Harry…" The rest died off in her throat.

"I'm not going anywhere," Ron said firmly. "I promise."

And she believed him.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

"Oh, remembered me, have you?" Ron spat, half hidden in the shadows of the lower bunk, his jaw set and expressionless.

"What?" Harry replied.

Ron snorted, staring emphatically upwards at the wooden bottom of the upper bunk.

"You two carry on. Don't let me spoil your fun."

Hermione felt the scathing sarcasm like burning acid on her skin. Harry looked to her utterly bewildered, but she could do nothing but shake her head. Ron's moods were unpredictable when he was hungry; he could have been upset by anything.

"What's the problem?" Harry asked.

"Problem? There's no problem," said Ron, still averting his eyes. "Not according to you anyway."

The sound of raindrops striking the canvas overhead startled Hermione as she looked between the two boys.

"Well, you've obviously got a problem," said Harry. "Spit it out, will you?"

Ron grumpily moved his legs off the bed, to the floor. He sat there, looking quite unlike himself with an almost frighteningly irritated expression.

"All right, I'll spit it out. Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's another damn thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."

"I don't know?" Harry repeated. "_I_ don't know?"

Hermione felt her stomach squirm with the pressure in the room. She looked fearfully at Harry, who was standing, his jaw clenched in anger. Her skin prickled, the rain overhead loud as gunshots as it fell harder and heavier, sloshing about in the gravel and leaves outside the tent, gathering into the chortling river outside.

"It's not like I'm not having the time of my life here," said Ron, "you know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."

"Ron," Hermione said, trying to be gentle, trying to be kind, trying not to provoke him. But she could hardly hear herself over the ruckus the drops were making on the tent, so she wasn't surprised when Ron did not even look her way.

"I thought you knew what you signed up for," said Harry.

"Yeah, I thought I did too."

"So what part of it isn't living up to your expectations?" asked Harry. Hermione could see the anger rising in him, his chest heaving, his stance aggravated. "Did you think we'd be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you'd be back to Mummy by Christmas?"

"We thought you knew what you were doing!" shouted Ron. Hermione cringed as if he were yelling at her. Her heart was beating furiously as she looked to Harry pleadingly, but he was not looking at her either. She bit her lip as Ron continued, "We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"

"Ron!" Hermione said, loudly this time, to be sure he heard her over the rumbling downpour. She thought she might have seen a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he did not respond otherwise, completely ignoring her. She knew it was the locket making him act like this. He wouldn't act like this otherwise, she knew it…Tears welled up behind her eyes as panic filled her and the fight continued.

"Well, sorry to let you down," said Harry, his voice frighteningly calm. "I've been straight with you from the start, I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in case you haven't noticed, we've found one Horcrux—"

"Yeah, and we're about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them—nowhere effing near, in other words!"

"Take off the locket, Ron," Hermione squeaked, her throat tight as she held back tears. "Please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."

"Yeah, he would," spat Harry, his words singeing Hermione. "Do you think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? D'you think I didn't guess you were thinking this stuff?"

The tears began to leak as she shook her head frantically. "Harry, we weren't—"

"Don't lie!" Ron hurled at her. "You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than—"

"I didn't say it like that—Harry, I didn't!" she pleaded.

She felt hollow, utterly defenseless as they stood there in the tension, nothing to break the straining emotions but the storm overhead. Hermione could not help but feel the pressing insignificance of their efforts, three starving teenagers alone in the woods, with nothing but an impossible task ahead and misery and death should they fail. And they could not even maintain civility towards each other. She felt another wave of tears slide down her cheeks.

"So why are you still here?" Harry asked Ron, though his words cut into Hermione as well, tightening the knot in her throat.

"Search me," said Ron.

"Go home then," said Harry.

"Yeah, maybe I will!" shouted Ron, taking several steps closer to Harry who did not budge. She watched them carefully, fists clenching with unease, her legs aching to separate the two of them, keep them from doing who-knew-what to each other.

"Didn't you hear what they said about my sister?" Ron continued. "But you don't give a rat's fart, do you, it's only the Forbidden Forest, Harry _I've-Faced-Worse_ Potter doesn't care what happens to her in there—well, I do, all right, giant spiders and mental stuff—"

"I was only saying—she was with the others, they were with Hagrid—"

"Yeah, I get it, you don't care! And what about the rest of my family, 'the Weasleys don't need another kid injured,' did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I—"

"Not bothered what it meant, though?"

"Ron!" Hermione cried, finally forcing her way between them, staring up at Ron. "I don't think it means anything new has happened, anything we don't already know about; think, Ron, Bill's already scarred, plenty of people must have seen that George has lost an ear by now, and you're supposed to be on your deathbed with Spattergroit, I'm sure that's all he meant—"

"Oh, you're sure, are you? Right then, well, I won't bother myself about them. It's all right for you two, isn't it, with your parents safely out of the way—"

"My parents are _dead_!" Harry bellowed.

"And mine could be going the same way!" yelled Ron.

Hermione shivered between the two of them, trying to stop crying, trying to remain calm and keep the peace. Things were getting heated. Ron's face was set tightly, the corner of his jaw twitching. He was quite possibly the angriest she'd ever seen him. She could feel Harry behind her, breathing heavily. Her chest felt rigid with apprehension and unease.

Harry then yelled directly into her ear, though what he said hurt far worse. "Then GO! Go back to them, pretend you've got over your Spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and—"

Hermione saw it coming, knew Harry had hit the last straw. She snatched her wand out right as Ron began to move and cried, "_Protego!"_

An invisible shield burst between the three of them, forcing them back several paces with its sheer strength. Hermione and Harry stood on one side, Ron on the other. She sniffed quietly, Ron glaring at the two of them, his shoulders heaving with rage. He would not look at her.

"Leave the Horcrux," Harry said suddenly.

Ron did not say a word as he yanked the chain from over his head and threw the locket into a nearby chair. Finally he turned to her, but it filled her with more fear than comfort.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his accusing tone cutting into her.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you staying, or what?"

Her breath caught with the suddenness of the question. "I…" Her heart began to race, her head spun again with a wave of anguish. She had to stay. She'd done too much, worked too hard to leave Harry now. It would feel so wrong to leave, leave everything for nothing. It was different for Ron and he couldn't see that. He could go home to the Burrow but she was a muggle-born and would have to stay on the run if she left Harry now. With a deep breath and the last of her nerves, she replied, "Yes—yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help—"

"I get it. You choose him."

Her eyes widened as she shook her head, but he was already turning to go. "Ron, no—please—come back, come back!"

She was hindered by her own Shield Charm and in her panic could not remove it before Ron had stormed out. She chased after him, leaving Harry alone in the tent. The downpour made it difficult to see, but she ran, calling Ron's name as she slid perilously on the slippery leaves and gravel.

"Ron! Come back, please, _please_!" she sobbed, wiping her stringy, wet hair from her face, squinting through the rain as she sprinted. The trees far before her rustled and she could just make out his dark form. "Ron, we n-need to stick together! Please!" she screamed, running towards the figure trying to grip the wet bark and pull herself up the muddy incline. A flash of lightening sparked in the night sky and she caught his face for a brief moment before the pop of Apparation reached her ears. He was gone. With a choking sob she lost her grip on the tree trunk, the loose earth giving out beneath her as she cascaded down to the painful gravel.

Utterly defeated and with a dull sense of agony burning in the center of her chest, she trudged back through the soaked earth, slipping on the gravel and at times feeling too anguished to stand back up. The light of the tent in the distance guided her dazed steps as she thought to herself, pictured the last she'd seen of his face. He wasn't angry. He was hurt.

She saw Harry's silhouette in the tent, just standing there dumbfound. He looked up when she entered and she gave him the briefest explanation she could. "He's g-g-gone! Disapparated!"

She could not see the faintest flicker of emotion cross his face, but she could care less at the moment how Harry felt. She threw herself into the armchair, pulled her legs up to her face and shook with sobs. Harry moved beside her and after a few moments, he'd placed a blanket around her. She let out another harsh sob when she realized it was Ron. It carried his scent, the rustic cedar scent of his trunk. The sound of a mattress creaking reached her ears and she knew Harry had climbed into bed. Anger and bitterness welled up within her, pushing forth another wave of tears. She was furious with the both of them. For being stubborn. For being stupid. For being irreparably selfish.

Her chest was aching. Her face was sticky and raw with tears and the tips of her fingers and lips felt cold and numb. The sobs had slowed to hiccups now as she sat there. She felt utterly exhausted and pulled Ron's blanket more tightly around her. Thoughts buzzed in her mind like angry hornets but she felt one like a venomous stinger to her heart. He had promised. He had promised he would never leave her. Yet look where he was now.


End file.
